


Shelter

by InyrilJace



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Rating May Change, Reluctant Father, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24285658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InyrilJace/pseuds/InyrilJace
Summary: Fleeing Tevinter with a young child in his care, Fenris heads as far south as possible. Yet winter in Ferelden is far harsher than he anticipated, so when a family of farmers takes him in, he accepts the opportunity to rest and recover. But with the horrors of his past close on his heels and new allies not quite who they seem to be, Fenris struggles to hold onto his freedom in an ever-changing world.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 25
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the indulgent reluctant-father-Fenris kid!fic that I decided to write on the spur of the moment. Call it my quarantine fic, if you like. It'll only be a couple of chapters long and hopefully I'll have it finished in the next few days.
> 
> Set in a canon-divergent world where the Fifth Blight never happened, so the Hawke family never fled Ferelden. Other canon-divergent things should be pretty obvious.  
> Enjoy :)

The cold was overwhelming, suffocating. Fenris stumbled along, his feet long since gone numb in the stolen shoes that were a little too large. The world was nothing but a dark grey blur as snow whirled in heavy flurries beyond anything he had ever seen before. He shivered, body constantly wracked with tremors as it tried to keep him warm.

It was too much. Fenris wanted to stop moving, wanted to lie down and give up, let the cold take him. Surely there was no hope of survival anymore.

The bundle in his cramped arms shifted, pressing more firmly against him.

Swallowing around the swollen lump of tongue in his mouth, Fenris forced himself to keep moving. One foot at a time, one breath at a time. He could do this; he had to do this.

Never in all his life had he imagined that anything could be so cold. Tevinter was hot in the dry season, balmy in the wet season. Fenris had heard the stories of the south, of snow-covered mountain ranges and frozen lakes. He had thought he could handle it, thought he could adapt.

He was not shivering anymore, he belatedly realised. His steps felt easier too – no, wait, he was not moving at all. Fenris tried to look around but his eyelids refused to open.

Move, he had to move! But he could not feel his legs anymore, could not tell if his body had responded to his commands. Everything felt surreal and distant, like he was floating.

Or falling.

Sounds swirled in his ears, faint and foreign beyond comprehension. Fenris focused on his breathing; in, out, in, out. That was one thing he could control, the only thing he could still feel. He had to hold on.

Yet how could he hold on when he had no grip left, no strength? The world plummeted beneath his feet and Fenris could not even struggle in one last bid for his life.

* * *

The dull thud of a heartbeat was the first thing that registered in his mind. Steady and regular, it soothed him, lulled him into complacency.

Fenris fought against it, his instincts screaming against such a thing.

His eyes finally cracked open and he stared around in complete confusion. Timber walls and rafters, the soft flickering of candlelight suffused with the mellow scent of pine and animal furs.

Warmth. Fenris tried to push himself up, shocked by the warmth that he was wholly cocooned in.

"Easy, take it easy." Hands pressed on his chest and his head whipped to the side, glaring at the woman who smiled down at him. "You need to rest. You almost died last night! Give yourself a chance to recover."

No, he could not rest. Fenris understood now, he was in someone's house. This woman's house, clearly, and that was a risk. If this woman had found him it was only a matter of time until the hunters came knocking on the door.

He forced himself upright, ignoring the woman's protests and the small flares of pain in his hands. One arm reflexively curled towards his chest to cradle the small –

There was nothing there. Panic seared through him and Fenris lurched to his feet.

"Whoa, hey!"

"Where is she? Orana!" He seized the woman by the front of her shirt, shaking fiercely as he resisted the urge to ignite his brands. "What have you done with her?"

"Calm down! She's safe!" Fenris forced himself to stop, to listen. The woman glanced at his hands, still fisted in her shirt, before taking a breath and continuing. "Your daughter is safe. She's downstairs with my sister getting some lunch. I swear, we haven't done anything to her. We're only trying to help you."

Fenris slowly relaxed his fists, only now noticing the bandages wrapped around them. He stepped back from the woman and looked himself over. He was dressed in a shirt and pants that were made for a much larger person. His feet were similarly bandaged like his hands, pain throbbing through them. He wanted to sit but resisted; it would not do to show weakness in front of this human. Never mind the fact that she seemed to have saved his life.

"My name is Marian Hawke," the woman said. "You're in our farmhouse, in southern Ferelden. Do you remembered what happened to you?"

He had to cooperate, just until he could get Orana and get out of here. They would never be safe among humans.

"There was a snowstorm. I … I couldn't see."

"Snowstorm is putting it mildly," Marian said with a snort. "A blizzard blew in last night, earlier than expected. It's still raging right now. You're lucky that we found you. If Carver hadn't tripped over you on our way back into the house … Well, not that that matters now. We  _ did _ find you and you're safe. But you really do need to be resting. Why don't you lie down–"

"Orana, take me to her," Fenris cut Marian off and strode towards the door purposefully. He heard her sigh before coming after him.

"Only if you tell me your name."

Fenris arched an eyebrow and twisted to meet Marian's gaze. She smiled but her eyes were firm, stubborn. He frowned, instinctively thinking of a false name to give her. But no, it was too late. He had already given away Orana's name. If anyone came looking for them, Marian and her family were at risk simply from knowing Orana's name.

No point to further deception then.

"Fenris."

"A pleasure to meet you, Fenris. Right this way."

He followed Marian along a narrow hallway and down a winding staircase into a rustic kitchen and dining room. A long table filled the open kitchen space, with simple benches drawn up on either side. Another young woman crouched by the pantry, talking softly.

"Uh, Bethany?" Marian addressed her and the young woman huffed without turning around.

"She's crawled in here and she won't come out, I swear, this child–"

"Beth!"

Bethany turned, surprise lighting her face before she blushed self-consciously as she met Fenris' gaze.

"Sorry. I didn't–"

"What did you do to her?" Fenris growled as he strode forward. Bethany's eyebrows shot up and she hurriedly backed away.

"Nothing! I asked her if she wanted some lunch and she just … took off into there."

"Bethany, meet Fenris. Fenris, Bethany."

Ignoring the sisters behind him, Fenris crouched down in front of the pantry and looked in. A pair of round, green eyes gleamed back at him and Fenris sighed in relief. He extended a hand, murmuring softly.

"It's alright. I'm here."

Orana took his hand and he gently pulled her out. She was dusty with dirt smudged on her wet cheeks – crying, she had been crying. Anger stirred in him as he scooped her against his chest and cradled her there. Fenris straightened and turned back to the sisters with his displeasure clear on his face.

"She's alright, Fenris. She's just scared," Marian tried to reassure him. "We wouldn't hurt her, we were just–"

"You said something about lunch?" he bluntly interrupted, not wanting to hear any of their excuses. Marian sighed but nodded.

It felt awkward to sit at the table and share a meal with these humans but Fenris was not about to turn away food when it was freely offered. Orana sat on his lap, one hand clutching tightly at his shirt as she sucked on the other thumb. Her large eyes watched Marian and Bethany warily and Fenris could not blame her. He didn't trust them, either.

Fenris tested the stew that Bethany served to them first. He rolled his around his mouth, focusing on the flavours as he slowly chewed and swallowed. Confident that there were no poisons in it, he gently tugged Orana's thumb out of her mouth and began to feed her.

There were no bandages on Orana's hands or feet. It seemed she had fared better than him in the cold – a miracle in itself.

Icy wind gusted into the room as the door to the mudroom opened. Marian cursed at the flurries of snow that made their way inside.

"Carver! Shut the damn door!"

Fenris watched as a hulking figure complied, closing the door and shaking off a mess of snow before shedding a coat and hanging it up. Something moved at the man's feet, something large. It barked in excitement, charging into the kitchen, straight towards Fenris and Orana.

Fenris surged to his feet, Orana protectively curled into his left arm. The large dog barked again and Fenris tensed; he hated to ignite his brands while he was holding Orana but if he needed to protect her–

"Mutt! Leave them alone!"

Fenris was surprised when the dog skidded to a halt, its ears sagging as it whined.

"None of that," Marian continued. "Go dry off by the fire."

The dog huffed before mournfully walking to the fireplace and flopping down. Fenris watched the large creature for a moment longer before slowly sitting back down.

"He won't hurt you, he's just excited to meet new people," Marian tried to reassure him.

"He's a bloody nuisance in a blizzard, that's for sure," grumbled the man as he entered the kitchen and helped himself to a massive serving of stew. "Spent half the time playing with the calves instead of hunting mice like I told him to do."

The dog snorted.

"He's a mabari, Carver, not a cat."

"He hunts mice when you tell him to!"

"That's because he's  _ my _ dog," Marian retorted proudly and Carver scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief.

Fenris slowly resumed eating and let the bickering of the siblings wash over him. Orana was more nervous than before, her eyes fixing on Carver as she pressed firmly against Fenris. He stroked her hair absently and offered her more food.

It was slow going but at length, Fenris was satisfied with how much food Orana had eaten. Bethany and Carver were arguing as they cleared empty bowls from the table and began to clean up. Marian turned towards him, smiling softly.

"You and your daughter are welcome to stay as long as you need, Fenris. I don't know why you were out in a blizzard like that – especially since our farm is in the middle of nowhere – but I don't really care, either. Something tells me the two of you could do with a little help."

"No," Fenris said quickly. "I appreciate everything you have done for us but we should be moving on."

"Really. And where would you go?"

"I thought you didn't care," Fenris shot back and Marian rolled her eyes.

"There's a difference between wanting your life story and being practical. The blizzard hasn't eased yet and even when it does, the snow will be far too deep to travel on foot. Honestly, you should probably think about staying with us until the end of winter. It's far safer to travel in spring."

"Really, Marian?" spoke up Carver. The large young man was regarding Fenris with a frown as he folded his arms across his chest. "You know nothing about this elf and his daughter."

"Kicking them out would be a death sentence, Carver. We just saved them from that, remember?" Marian retorted and Carver's scowl deepened.

"Do you really think Father would want a stranger in the house for the whole of winter? Bit risky, don't you think?"

Tension simmered in the air and Fenris watched the siblings closely, wondering what had triggered this sudden unease between them all.

"Father's not here, Carver. I'm making the decisions in his absence. And I say that Fenris and Orana are welcome to stay. If you have a problem with that, we can discuss it in private." Marian slanted her eyes towards Fenris and Carver's mouth clammed shut. He turned away and stormed out of the kitchen.

"Sorry about him," Marian said and flashed Fenris a smile. "He's a bit of a git, really."

"He's right, though. You don't know me. You shouldn't welcome me into your home."

"Too late for that. At the very least, you should stay until you've fully recovered. And you'll need better clothes if you're travelling through Ferelden at this time of year. You're lucky you still have all your fingers and toes!"

Fenris frowned but he knew she was right. He had been vastly unprepared for the weather this far south. And if these people were offering their aid freely …

"Very well. We shall stay – for a while."

* * *

The Hawkes were a boisterous lot. Prone to petty squabbles and constant teasing, Fenris found them rather tiresome. He mostly kept to his room with Orana, occasionally cracking open the window only to see the storm still raging.

The more he rested, the more he realised just how exhausted he was. By the end of the first day, a cough had taken up residence in his chest, only serving to strengthen Marian's argument that they should stay.

Orana was also coughing. She sniffled and rubbed at red-rimmed eyes, looking altogether miserable and pathetic. Fenris did what he could to help her recover. He wiped her nose, offered her water and rocked her to sleep.

She was so young, so fragile. Too young to have gone through any of this. After all that had happened in Tevinter, everything she had seen …

Guilt stabbed through him and he looked away, fighting down bile that tried to rise in his throat. He didn't deserve her – yet here she was, helpless without him. And where would he be without her? So many times on their terror-filled journey, Fenris had wanted to give up. Orana had kept him going, had brought hope into his life and given him something to keep fighting for.

Shaking off the guilt, Fenris looked down at her sleeping face and gently stroked across her blonde hair. If only for Orana, he would keep going, keep fighting, until they were free.

A soft knock sounded at the door and he looked up to see Marian standing there.

"I don't mean to intrude. I heard her coughing before and thought I'd make up a syrup. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Please." Fenris gestured for her to enter and Marian did so, placing a small cup on the dresser. Fenris found his eyes lingering on her face, tracing over the curve of her lips, the sweep of her lashes. How alluring, how attractive–

He looked away and fought to dislodge those thoughts. They had only been here for a handful of days. He should not be taking note of any of these humans, let alone entertaining thoughts like these! That was a distraction he could not afford, not with so much on the line.

"So, are you planning to stay up here forever? You know you're welcome to join us downstairs."

Fenris shot Hawke a mild glare.

"And what would that benefit me?"

"Aside from a change in scenery? Some interesting conversation, at the very least! Even if you have nothing to say, Carver always ends up saying something to prove he's an idiot, so it's worth it. Well? What do you say?"

Her smile was so confident and expectant, her expression open and encouraging. Fenris felt longing stir inside of him; how long had it been since he indulged in another's company, in simple conversation?

But he looked back to Orana and shook his head.

"I will not leave Orana. If she woke up and I was not here … I will not do that to her."

Marian sighed and took a step back.

"Very well. Still, you know where we are if you change your mind."

The offer lingered with him as Marian left him alone. The farmhouse was not overly large and he could hear traces of conversation filtering upstairs. Laughter broke out every now and then and his chest ached.

Orana coughed violently, her small body shaking under the force of it until she was left exhausted and weepy, whimpering when the coughs finally subsided.

"Shh, I'm here," Fenris tried to soothe her. He sat her up and rubbed her back before remembering the syrup that Marian had brought. "Here. Orana, drink this."

Hands trembling, the tiny girl let him tip the cup to her mouth. But she recoiled, face screwing up in displeasure.

"Taste funny," she said and Fenris quirked a smile, pleased that she felt comfortable enough to express herself in this way. Not so long ago, she never would have done such a thing.

"I know, but that's because it's medicine. It will help your cough go away. Can you drink it all up? Please?" Orana pouted but obeyed. Fenris felt pride swell in him as she emptied the cup and he rubbed her back again.

"Fenwis? Do we 'tay here now?"

"Hmm? Stay? What do you mean?"

"Is Mawian our new mistwess?"

Pain shot through him and Fenris pulled Orana into his lap. The young girl rested her head against his chest, thumb tucked into her mouth again.

"No, Orana. We do not belong to Marian or anyone else. We are free now. We will never belong to anyone again."

The syrup worked swiftly and within minutes, Orana was sitting up and looking brighter than she had in weeks. Fenris could only watch, captivated, as the small girl slipped off his lap and tentatively began to explore the room.

Perhaps he was doing Orana more harm than good by keeping them upstairs. She was so young, still highly impressionable. Surely he should be introducing her to more of the world, letting her investigate and learn that not everyone is cruel.

"Orana? Would you like to go downstairs?"

She hesitated a moment before nodding. Fenris scooped her up and one thin arm wound around his neck, her other thumb in her mouth once more. Silence fell over the Hawke siblings as Fenris descended the stairs.

He said nothing, walking straight to an empty arm chair close to the fire and sitting down. The dog rose from its place at Marian's feet, stumpy tail wiggling excitedly as it slowly approached.

"Tell him to get lost if you don't want him near you," Marian said. "We were just about to play another round of Wicked Grace, do you want us to deal you in?"

"No, thank you." Fenris looked dubiously at the dog. It had stopped two feet away but was watching him with a large grin on its face, wiggling happily. Fenris frowned and the dog whined before flopping down dramatically and rolling onto its back.

Orana moved and, before Fenris could stop her, she was down on the floor, slowly stepping towards the dog.

"Orana!"

"He won't hurt her," Marian said gently and Fenris found his eyes jumping up to hers. "I promise."

It did not make any sense. She was a stranger, a random human he never should have met. And yet Fenris found himself trusting her.

Orana reached a hand out to the dog's face. Fenris' fingers gripped tightly at the arms of the chair; this was a mabari, a war dog! He should not let her anywhere near it! But the dog held perfectly still as Orana patted across its face, only licking her hand as she started to withdraw it.

A giggle escaped Orana and Fenris' mouth fell open in disbelief. He had never heard her laugh, ever! She kept patting the dog, sitting on the floor to rub its belly, and the massive mabari let out a happy woof, turning to lick her face.

Fenris looked up, the panic slowly leeching from his veins. Marian was smiling as Bethany and Carver shuffled the cards on the low table in front of them. Marian met Fenris' gaze and he felt lost in those bright blue eyes.

"Marian! It's your turn."

The moment broke as Marian turned back to her siblings. Fenris' heart throbbed in his chest and he breathed out slowly as he returned his focus to Orana. This … He had not expected this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She did not look at him but Fenris stole a glance at her. Dark hair cut short, tendrils of it swirling around her face. Her cheeks pinched pink by the cold. She was beautiful and the thought stunned him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell yeah for another chapter! In sad news, my laptop charger has officially died. I'm trying to get a replacement but that could literally take weeks. All my writing is stored in the cloud so I can write on my phone but ... it's a lot slower. Sigh.
> 
> Minor warning for nightmares and discussions of slavery stuff in this chapter.

_Lyrium filled his lungs._

_Sweet like syrup, slow like molasses, it spread through him in a slow death. Gasping for air, fighting for the surface. Helpless, hopeless …_

_Soft caresses along his skin. Manicured nails sliding, tracing. Shudders of fear, revulsion. Stop. Don't touch me. Get away._

_"Oh, Fenris. How well the master has trained you!"_

_The taste of ash and blood on his tongue – rage swelling in his breast. Fury had always tasted of fire and death, and it filled him now. He let it, held onto it, savoured it._

_It would give him the resolve to do what he otherwise could not._

_A tip of the cup, a gasp of shock._

_"Filthy slave! How dare you!"_

_The chant of voices, the rush of energy. Raw, powerful. Dark. Evil. Innocents crying in pain, begging for mercy._

_No mercy. There was never any mercy._

_And so he would show none in return._

_A scream, sharp and pitiful. Young. Too young. No, wait, this was wrong. This wasn't … this couldn't be …_

Fenris lurched awake, hands scrambling for a sword that was not there as his brands flooded the room in light. Where was she? He would kill her! The screaming persisted, piercing his mind, and he clutched a hand to his head.

Why was he in a house? And where was …

"Fenris! Fenris, stop!"

He forced the pulsing lyrium down, quietening the chaos in his mind until his brands dimmed and the room fell into darkness once again. Yet he could still see, his elven eyes picking out the figures on the other side of the room.

Huddled on the floor. Cowering away. From him.

Marian's face was pale in shock but her jaw was set in that stubborn tilt. Her arms curled around Orana, cradling the small girl protectively as Orana screamed and sobbed and clung to her.

"Forgive me," he murmured, hand trembling as he lowered it. He pushed back the tangled sheets of the bed, ashamed to find them soaked with sweat.

"What in the Maker's name was that?" Marian demanded. Fenris crossed to the shuttered window and threw it open, inhaling deeply as a burst of icy wind flew in. He shivered but refused to move – he needed this.

"Fenris? Answer me! What just happened? Blast it, Fenris, turn around! Orana's terrified!"

"I told you not to welcome me into your home," he forced the words out as his hands gripped the window sill, tightening until it hurt. His voice was gravelly and his throat ached and he swallowed, wondering if Orana's screams had been the only ones to wake Marian.

"We are way past that – and no, before you ask, I am not letting this go until I have some kind of explanation! Are you a mage?"

"No!" he snarled and spun around, trembling with fury. "I am not a mage! I was a slave! A Tevinter magister forced this upon me, I did not choose it!"

Marian's mouth clicked shut and a new emotion swirled through her eyes, something that Fenris had no name for. He looked away, frustrated by his outburst and angry that she had seen him like this. They should not stay any longer, he should leave with Orana at dawn.

"I'm sorry," Marian said softly as she rocked Orana. The young girl's cries were quietening to whimpers and sniffles. Fenris' heart ached as he looked at her, constricting with guilt.

Closing the shutters, he approached them but stopped a few feet away. He knelt and half-extended a hand towards Orana.

"Orana, forgive me," he whispered. But the tiny girl shook her head and burrowed deeper against Marian. He sighed and let his hand fall to the floor. This was useless. He was a failure! All he wanted to do was protect her but he had hurt her.

Just like the magisters.

He tensed to turn away but Marian's voice stopped him cold.

"Don't leave it at that. You're her father – she needs you! Tell her what happened. Help her understand. Otherwise you leave her alone in her fear and you can't do that!"

It was so dark in the room, still hours away from dawn. But Marian's eyes gleamed brightly all the same. Fenris did not want to speak, did not want to expose his vulnerabilities to a three year old child, let alone the human woman before him. And yet something about those blue eyes and the words she had spoken persuaded him to do so.

Clearing his throat, Fenris tried again.

"Orana. I did not mean to scare you." His eyes flicked nervously towards Marian then jumped away. "I know you do not like when I use my brands. But I did not do it deliberately. I … I had a dream."

His gut roiled and he tensed his shoulders, trying to hold himself together.

"Sometimes … my dreams are dark and … painful. And sometimes when that happens, my brands try to protect me. But they were not trying to hurt you. _I_ was not trying to hurt you. I would never do that to you, ever. Forgive me."

Orana lifted her small face from where she had smushed it against Marian's collarbone. Fenris did not know what else to say and his mouth hung open uselessly. Orana's face screwed up in fresh emotions and guilt stabbed him all the harder – but then she launched out of Marian's arms, straight into his.

He clutched her, shocked, then pulled her close as relief swept through him. Orana wailed and trembled in his grasp but she was _there_ , she _wanted_ to be close to him.

Fenris could hardly wrap his head around it.

They sat there, on the hard floor of the bedroom, until Orana's whimpers had dwindled into silence and her trembles eased into regular breaths. Fenris looked down to find her fast asleep on his chest. Something warm stirred inside of him, something he had never known he could feel when he plucked her from the wreckage and ran.

Shifting, Marian pushed herself up, taking a moment to stretch out her arms and legs.

"I'll leave you to it. You're welcome to get food or drink if you want it or … or anything else." She hesitated and Fenris seized the opportunity.

"Thank you, Marian. I … did not mean to wake you."

"It's no trouble. As long as you're both safe."

"Do you truly have no questions for me?" Fenris was not sure why he pushed her but he could not fathom that she could be so accepting of all she had seen. No one else ever was.

"I'll admit, I'm curious but–" she shrugged, "–it's your story, not mine. If you ever wanted to talk, I'm willing to listen. But until then, and as long as you're not a danger to anyone, you're welcome to stay."

Her words shocked him, confused him. Fenris had never met anyone like her before. Of all the people he had encountered since fleeing Tevinter, none of them had been willing to offer him such trust and acceptance.

Perhaps Marian was a fool for doing this. His experiences told him so clearly enough – yet he found himself warmed by her words instead of scorning them.

Marian walked to the door but paused, looking back at him.

"Fenris? I just wanted to say, you did well just now. You're a good father to her. And … I'm sorry for all you've suffered."

Fenris quirked an eyebrow.

"What do you have to apologise for?"

She opened her mouth to reply, hesitated, then shook her head.

"Never mind."

* * *

"C'mon, Beth! Is that the best you've got?"

Shrieking laughter filled the air as snowballs flew. Fenris stood in the open door of the mudroom and shook his head in disbelief.

"Get him!"

Marian and Bethany teamed up, pelting their brother mercilessly. Carver ran and protested but they refused to relent.

"Oi, lay off!"

"Ha! Who's a big strong soldier now?"

Another snowball smacked Carver in his open mouth as he went to retort. He charged forwards and Marian laughed as he tackled her into the snow, before squealing as he dumped handfuls down her shirt.

"Okay, okay, mercy!"

"I've got you, sister!"

Bethany shoved a snowball down the back of Carver's pants and he howled, spinning on his twin instead. Taking the opportunity to retreat, Marian shook the snow out of her clothes and retreated to the verandah to sit with her legs dangling off the edge.

"Fenwis? What is dey doing?"

"What _are_ they doing," Fenris corrected and glanced down at the small girl in his arms. Orana stared outside in complete fascination, her eyes never leaving the twins. "They're playing in the snow."

"Can, can Owana pwaying too?"

The request was so unexpected that he stared at her. Dressed in a new outfit that Bethany had sewed for her only the day before with her blonde hair spilling everywhere, she looked brighter and healthier than Fenris had ever seen her. Her eyes had lost that hollow, sunken look and her cheeks had filled out. She was heavier in his arms, too. All small signs of improvement that he had only acknowledged now.

Still, the blizzard had only ended a day ago. And it had not been that long since Orana recovered from her sickness.

"No, I don't think so. It's very cold out there. I don't want you to get sick again."

"Pwease?" Orana turned her head to look up at him, her large green eyes round in a perfect picture of innocence.

A lump lodged in his throat and, after a moment of struggling to breathe, Fenris nodded. He set her down and watched her happily run down the stairs and stumble through the deep snow. She hesitated when the twins turned towards her but her confidence slowly returned when they did not approach and the dog came to butt against her instead.

Please. She had said _please!_ Fenris had never heard Orana ask for anything like that, ever! He had told her no and she had still kept asking!

The gravity of the moment overwhelmed him and he lingered in the doorway for a long moment, unable to tear his eyes away. He watched the three year old girl marvel at the snow, throw it in the air, then try to form a snowball like the twins had done. Bethany approached but stopped several feet away. She smiled and slowly began to make a snowball, showing Orana how it was done.

This moment did not belong to him.

His heart wrenched, conflicted, but Fenris knew it was true. After everything he had done, he did not deserve this.

Finally forcing himself to move, Fenris stepped outside and closed the door behind him. His feet moved before he could make a conscious decision and he found himself sitting beside Marian. She smiled at him, swinging her legs in such a carefree motion that Fenris could not comprehend the depth of difference between them.

"She looks happy," Marian said and Fenris nodded.

"I've never seen her play before."

Marian's head turned sharply at that but he avoided her gaze, not wanting to see whatever emotions might be waiting for him. He waited for the prying questions, for the comments of horror and shame to fall upon him. But Marian simply turned her eyes back to the snow and let the moment pass.

Perhaps that was why, only a minute or two later, Fenris found words falling unbidden from his lips.

"I'm not her real father." It felt good to confess such a thing, to finally have it out in the open. Why? Fenris had never cared about the assumptions people made before now. So what had changed? "He's dead. He died … back in Tevinter."

"Was it hard to leave?" Marian asked.

"Not in the way you are thinking, I am sure. I could not get far away from that place quick enough. But finding an opportunity where I _could_ leave …"

"Do you have a safe place that you are heading to?"

She did not look at him but Fenris stole a glance at her. Dark hair cut short, tendrils of it swirling around her face. Her cheeks pinched pink by the cold. She was beautiful and the thought stunned him.

"I have never been this far south in my life. I have previously travelled to Kirkwall with my master but–" His jaw snapped shut, hating the flood of memories that surged up.

"Well, we're in a pretty remote spot here. Lothering is the closest village but even folks there are content to simply go about their lives. No one bothers us out here. If you wanted to stay … You would be safe with us, Fenris. You both would be."

"You say that as though I am otherwise unsafe."

"You tell me," Marian replied and he faltered. "After all I've seen of you and the little I've learnt of you, should I really be so naive as to think that there is not danger haunting your steps?"

Fenris tensed. She was right and she knew it. This simple farm woman was far more intelligent than he had expected.

"I do not wish to put you at risk. It would be safer for you if we left."

"But would it be safer for _you?_ " The question caught him off-guard – why should Marian care about his wellbeing over her own? "I'm not trying to make any decisions for you, I never would. It's your life and you can do what you want. But if you wanted to stay – if you wanted to stop running – we would help make this a safe place for you. And if that danger ever caught up to you, we would help you fight it."

"You don't know what you're saying," Fenris spoke harshly, not knowing how else to respond. "You have no idea what you are pledging to go up against. For me! An elven slave! What are you trying to gain from this?"

His eyes narrowed in a glare at her and Marian met his gaze this time. He was surprised to see the hurt there.

"Nothing, Fenris. I'm not doing any of this for my own gain. And you're not an elven slave to me. You're a free man. I'd just like to keep it that way."

With that, Marian slid off the verandah and went to join Bethany in making a snow castle for Orana.

* * *

High pitched giggles filled the living room, creating a different kind of warmth to the one already wrapped around every corner. Fenris stared at Orana who sat perched on Bethany's knee. The tiny girl had taken to her rather quickly after the afternoon spent in the snow. She liked to trail after Bethany and even dared to run fingers through her long dark hair once.

Orana had flinched when Bethany caught her doing it, and Fenris had tensed in response. But Bethany had not yelled or screamed or slapped her. Instead, she smiled and asked if she could brush Orana's hair.

Fenris never had to worry about doing her hair anymore. Bethany was more than content to style it in new braids every day.

He did not know why they had not left. The blizzard ended days ago with no further flurries. He should be on the road already, pressing further south.

Yet … Orana was happy here. She was learning to trust, learning to play. She had not spoken around the Hawkes but Fenris was sure it was only a matter of time. Being here was good for her. Was it really fair for him to take all that away?

"Very good!" Bethany said as Orana completed whatever game they had been playing that involved ribbons. Fenris had not been keeping track. "Now, what would you like to do next?"

The smile evaporated off Orana's face and she went very still. Fenris tensed, sensing the change in atmosphere instantly. Orana stared up at Bethany, lower lip trembling before she ever so slowly turned to look at Fenris.

He saw the fear in those large green eyes, the uncertainty and confusion. And his heart ached because he knew, he understood why she was suddenly so afraid.

"She would like to be told a story," Fenris said firmly, his eyes never leaving Orana. He watched the hope rise in her gaze before she slowly looked back to Bethany.

But Bethany was frowning.

"I don't mean to be rude but she can choose for herself, Fenris."

Such ignorance. Anger burned through him but he controlled it, not wanting to frighten Orana any further.

"No," he said bluntly. "She can't."

"Of course she can!" Bethany protested. "I'm not going to force her to do anything sh–"

"She can't! Not if it's _you_ asking her! In Tevinter she'd be beaten for making her own choice!"

He had not meant to explode so, but it was too late to take it back now. Bethany stared at him with a white face, horror slowly filling her expression.

"What?"

Fenris stood, strode towards them, and swept Orana up into his arms. Shaking, she burrowed in against him and pressed her face to his neck. A lump rose in his throat and Fenris had to turn away, averting his gaze to the crackling fireplace instead.

"A slave has no choice, no freedom. When you asked her what she wanted to do …" He swallowed hard, struggling to form the words. "Such a phrase is used by the magisters as a trap. For when they are looking for an excuse to punish someone. All slaves know this – it is one of the first lessons we learn. And we never forget."

Memories roared through his mind and he focused on the slow stroke of his hand over Orana, on the silky smooth of her hair, the rough-spun texture of her clothes. Fenris breathed in her innocent scent, seeking refuge there just as she sought refuge in his.

"I … I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I never meant to …" Bethany trailed off, clearly at a loss.

"You need to give her clear options, definitive choices. She is not ready for more than that from you yet."

"Of course. May I apologise to her?"

Fenris looked back at Bethany in surprise. Apologise? He had not expected such a result. And yet … this might help …

He nodded, shifting Orana gently in his arms. Bethany slowly approached and waited until Orana plucked up the courage to lift her head, to meet her gaze.

"Orana, I am so sorry for making you think that I was going to hurt you. I would _never_ hurt you. I only want to have fun with you, to keep you safe and show you love. Can you forgive me?"

Orana stared at Bethany for a long moment, before reaching out a hand and touching Bethany's long hair. A relieved smile broke out over the woman's face and she sighed.

The moment shattered when the door slammed open and Marian ran into the house.

"Bethany, quick! Old Bessie's gone into labour and the calf is stuck. We need you."

Fenris watched in confusion as Bethany instantly cursed and rolled up her sleeves, heading to the door with Marian.

"Old Bessie?" he echoed.

"One of our druffalo," Marian called over her shoulder.

"If you need help, I could–"

"It's fine, Fenris. We've got this. It shouldn't take too long."

He stared at the closed door long after they were gone. In all the days he had spent here, Marian had never spoken to him so brusquely. Indeed, she was gentle and attentive, albeit prone to endless sarcasm though it usually drew a smile to his face. Fenris enjoyed talking to her, feeling as though he could share things with her that he had never imagined he would share with anyone.

Still, a livestock birth in the middle of winter was sure to be a difficult thing. It was not so unusual for Marian to be a little preoccupied by this, surely.

So Fenris returned his attention to Orana and settled in to wait. The little girl played with the ribbons Bethany had left behind until she was yawning and rubbing at her eyes. The fire began to burn low and Fenris added another couple of logs.

He glanced towards the mudroom. Marian had said it would not take long. Yet they had been an hour, at least. He should check on them, ensure they were alright.

Taking a moment to tuck Orana into bed and promising that he would return to her soon, Fenris slipped outside and shivered in the cold. The large barn was not far from the house and he followed the tracks through the snow to the open door.

The firelight was brighter than he had expected as he stepped inside, illuminating the barn quite well.

Fenris froze.

"Is he breathing yet?"

"Hang on, I'm trying."

Carver stood at the druffalo's head, soothing her. Bethany was at her rear, hands ignited with a Fade-like glow. Marian knelt over a limp calf, her hands glowing far brighter than Bethany's as she frowned in concentration.

No. This couldn't be possible. He had to be imagining things! They couldn't be …

The calf's body twitched, then he inhaled once, twice, and on until he let out a soft low. Marian smiled and let the magic dissipate from her hands, rubbing the calf's ribs.

"That's it, boy. Breathe! Good boy!"

The dog chose that moment to spy Fenris in the doorway and bark in greeting. Three sets of eyes snapped to him and Fenris felt pinned, trapped. They would hurt him, they would enslave him. They were mages – no, apostates! Living outside the Circle! How foolish had he been? How blind!

The blood drained from Marian's face and she began to rise slowly.

"Fenris–"

Rage seared through his veins and gave him the power to move. He spun on his heel, racing to the house with as much speed as the brands in his skin could give him. The door splintered where it slammed against the wall but he didn't care. He darted up the stairs, thoughts consumed of nothing but _escape_.

"Orana! Orana!"

She jolted awake fearfully, instantly feeding off his distress as she looked upon him. Fenris did not pause to calm or reassure her. He simply scooped her out of the bed, wrapped her in a blanket, and bolted for the stairs.

Marian and Carver were in the house, and they raced towards him as he descended.

"Fenris, please! Let me explain!" Marian begged but he was done listening to the lies of her kind. Carver tried to block him, filling the space with his considerable mass.

Fenris snarled, brands igniting as he lunged forwards and sank his hand into Carver's chest.

"Carver!" Marian screamed. Orana wailed in terror.

"Get away from me, _mage!_ "

Fenris pulled his fist free and shoved Carver with his foot. Carver crashed to the ground, weak and ashen but alive. Marian fell to her brother's side and Fenris seized the opening.

Out of the house, into the snow and the wind. Fenris ignored the chill, blocked out the confused barks of the dog. And ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark grey hair, pale eyes. Firm, unforgiving brows. Lips twisted into an arrogant smirk. Body tall and confident with every step. Victory written in every line, already claimed.
> 
> Fenris' knees trembled and he struggled to keep from falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not having this up much sooner! Covid life got real hectic, real quick, and I haven't had much time for writing. But hey, at least I've sorted out my laptop charger so that's not an issue anymore!
> 
> PS this fic has changed from 3 chapters to 4.... couldn't help myself. Sorry if you were hoping for a neat resolution in this chapter! You'll have to wait a little longer. Though, if it helps, chapter 4 is half-written already :)
> 
> Rating change for Mature themes in this chapter.

_ Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _

Fool. He was such a fool! How had he not seen them for what they were sooner?

_ Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _

He should have known better. A family group like that out in the middle of nowhere? Of course they were apostate mages. What else could they have been?

_ Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _

It wasn't as though he had no experience in the matter. He had been a slave to a powerful Magister of Tevinter, exposed to wilful displays of magic on a daily basis. He had learnt to recognise a mage from the way the lyrium moved in his skin. Normally it was slow, merely thrumming with his heartbeat. But around mages, it buzzed and flowed rapidly. He should have known!

_ Crunch. Crun– Crack! _

The ground below gave way and Fenris flailed in a desperate attempt to find his footing. Orana gasped in his arms as his right foot plunged into icy water. Panic seared through his veins and he moved to throw her to safety –

Too late.

The ice splintered as he fell, left foot sinking into the freezing depths. Fenris shouted, yanking Orana off his chest and holding her as high as he could, right before his body submerged.

Pain. Agony unlike anything he'd felt before.

It was different to receiving his lyrium brands, not as excruciating. But crippling, suffocating. His lungs refused to expand and he felt as though he could not thrash, could not kick to the surface, his limbs already frozen. Every nerve in his body burned and he wanted to scream.

Mercy of mercies, his head resurfaced.

Fenris unleashed the scream as he felt cool air on his face. Orana was twisting in his grip, his arms still locked above his head. He kicked blindly, desperate to keep himself afloat. But his clothes weighed on him, the current of the river pulling him against the fractured edges of ice. Fenris tried to brace himself but he could feel the edges splintering further.

No. Not like this. He did not want to drown out in the miserable Ferelden wilderness. He did not want to fail Orana, after all he owed her.

"Quick! Let the girl go, we've got her! Leandra!"

It took a moment for the words to penetrate his mind, another for them to make sense. Fenris was too panicked, too consumed with fighting for his survival. But then Orana was tugged from his grasp and he cried out; no, he couldn't lose her!

"It's alright, I've got you!"

Strong hands clamped onto his shoulders and pulled. Fenris knew his size was deceptive. Slight and fine-boned, people often assumed him to be a light waif. But he was a warrior, a finely honed machine that regularly wielded a greatsword almost as long as he was tall. His muscles might be compact but they were still there. His weight was no easy thing to lift.

These hands lifted him as though he weighed as little as a newborn lamb. One moment he was flailing in the water, the next he was splayed across snow and ice, gasping and coughing and yelling.

"We need a fire!"

"Strip him of those clothes, he'll freeze to death!"

His teeth were chattering, Fenris dimly registered. He tried to curl his limbs to conserve body heat, but he could not feel if they responded. The world lurched around him and his head lolled, trying to see what was going on.

A man dragged him towards the tree line, where a woman cradled a screaming Orana in her arms. Reaching the tree line, the man knelt and rapidly began to undress him.

Fenris did not have the time or energy to protest. His head was swimming, consciousness staggering like a drunkard. Anxious voices swirled over him but he could not make out the words. Warmth blazed in the air and he pried his eyes open to see a fire. But he could barely hold on, too weakened by the shock and the cold.

"Come on, dammit! Open your eyes!"

Fenris tried to obey but the black abyss reached up and dragged him down.

It felt so final, so unavoidable. Death, which he had escaped so many times before, was finally claiming him. So Fenris was surprised when sensations slowly came back to him. Warmth on his face, wrapped around him. Aches in his limbs, pain in his lungs. A heartbeat. And the dull thrum of lyrium in his skin.

He was alive. Prying his eyes open, Fenris stared at the campfire in disbelief.

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

His eyes flickered to the man sitting beside him. A thick, rugged beard covered the man's face and light brown eyes twinkled down at him. There was something oddly familiar about this man but Fenris could not place it right now.

"Can you sit up, dear? We really should get some hot broth into you."

Fenis looked at the woman across the campfire. He was startled to see Orana bundled in the woman's arms, thumb slowly sliding out of her mouth as she slept. He struggled to rise, limbs slowly responding and cooperating. The thick blanket around him slipped and he realised he was naked underneath.

Shame and fear slid through him and Fenris looked back at the man. The man offered a smile and gestured towards the fire.

"Your clothes are almost dry. You'll be able to get dressed soon, don't worry."

Wrapping the blanket tighter around himself, Fenris finally sat up and watched them warily. The woman plucked up a bowl and quickly filled it from the pot that hung above the fire. She kept Orana expertly tucked into her elbow the whole time, as though having a three year old in her grasp was no trouble at all.

"Here. Drink slowly, dear."

Fenris took the bowl and cautiously took a sip. Hot but delicious, instantly warming his belly. He restrained himself from slurping it all down at once.

"My name is Malcolm and this is my wife, Leandra. We were travelling home when we heard your screams. If not for that … well, let's not dwell on that. We got you both out. But what were you doing, trying to cross the river? The ice isn't thick enough yet!"

"I didn't know," Fenris said and his voice rasped, sparking a fresh pain in his chest. He winced but continued. "I didn't know there was a river, I thought it was only snow."

"You're safe now, dear, and that's all that matters. As is your little one. Oh, she is simply delightful!"

Fear shot through him and Fenris looked up.

"Orana! Did she …"

"She's fine," Malcolm reassured him. "You kept her above the water and that probably saved her life."

Relief washed through him and Fenris relaxed again. He drank the rest of the broth and let his eyes close for a moment. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him and, for a split second, he wished he had not left the Hawke farmhouse.

Ferelden was more treacherous than he had expected. These snowy conditions carried hidden dangers that he had severely underestimated. Fenris just wanted to relax in that arm chair by the fireplace, wanted to taste the hearty home-grown meals. He wanted to sit beside Marian and watch the wind tug on her hair as her nose crinkled with every smile.

But they were mages. They could not be trusted.

A jolt shot through him and Fenris found his eyes leaping open again. They darted first to Malcolm, then Leandra. Realisation dawned on him, spreading a sick sensation through his gut.

He could see it now. Malcolm's thick beard distracted from his features at first, but even in such a short time Fenris had grown used to the proud arch of Carver's brows. Just as he was familiar with the elegant cheekbones of Bethany. And the teasing grin that tilted Hawke's lips …

What was the South doing to him? Since when was he so  _ blind? _

"It's a dangerous time of year to be travelling. Leandra and I don't like to risk it but when we have cause … well, we are very familiar with these forests. We know how to find our way. But, forgive me for saying, you don't seem to be quite as familiar. May I ask what drives you to travel under such perilous conditions?"

Fenris had to be extremely careful. He had to make the casual conversation, express his gratitude, then move on. It was a delicate balancing act that he could not afford to screw up. One wrong move and he would fall back into the clutches of a mage. He would not stand for that.

He could feel it now, the buzz of the lyrium in his skin. He knew what it meant and he forced his heart not to race. He could not tip his hand now.

"I am escaping a difficult past," Fenris replied carefully. "This was not my intended route of travel but … like you said. When needs must. I thank you for your aid. We would not have survived without it. But we must be pressing on."

"Right now?" Leandra asked in alarm. "But where will you go? There's nothing out here for miles! It's not good weather to be travelling with such a young one, either."

"Must be quite the difficult past, to have you running so fast." Malcolm's eyes suddenly reminded Fenris far too much of Marian's. Sharp and piercing, they darted over Fenris' exposed skin – no, over his brands. Over the lyrium. Fenris fought down a shudder of horror.

"You will forgive me for saying that is truly none of your business," Fenris retorted.

"Oh, come now, dear. Don't be foolish! You almost died not so long ago. Let yourself rest, at least for the rest of the night. And in the morning we can discuss it further."

Fenris could not see any way to insist on leaving without resulting in confrontation. Reluctantly, he murmured his agreement. Leandra nodded in approval and offered him another bowl of broth. Fenris accepted it and pretended he did not feel Malcolm's eyes on him as he ate.

He had no choice but to wait until they were all asleep. His clothes were soon dry and Leandra and Malcolm respectfully turned away while he dressed – something he had not expected. Orana was returned to him as Leandra and Malcolm sorted out their own sleeping arrangements, and Fenris felt a knot of anxiety unravel as the small girl lay in his arms again.

It felt like hours before peace settled over the small camp. Ignoring the weariness in his limbs and the itch of a cough in his throat, Fenris kept himself awake and waited. Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he rose silently and prepared to leave.

Orana stirred slightly as he shifted, disgruntled noises escaping her lips. Fenris froze and waited for Malcolm or Leandra to wake, to catch him and try to stop him.

Nothing.

Moving quicker now, Fenris scavenged a few things from the camp; a heavy blanket, a water flask, a small knife. With Orana pressed to his chest and his hand tight on the knife, he crept away.

He had not gone ten steps before a voice froze him in place.

"Elf. Wait." Malcolm stood behind him. How the large man had moved so silently, Fenris did not know. "You don't have to do this, you don't have to run. We can help you. Our home is nearby. You would be safe there, we would protect you."

Familiar words, but Fenris saw Malcolm's gaze slip from his face and linger on his brands. Anger burned in him and he flexed his fingers around the knife.

"One more step,  _ mage _ , and it will be the last you ever take."

Malcolm faltered, eyes widening in surprise. But he stayed still. So Fenris slowly retreated, until the dense trees swallowed him and he could no longer see the glow of the campfire. His heart thundered in his chest and his throat ached from the desire to cough.

He suppressed it all. There was nothing he could do but keep going, keep running. Maybe if he ran far enough, he would leave this cursed place behind him.

* * *

There was no end to the forest.

Deep coughs wracked his body and his feet floundered in the snow. Panting and weak, Fenris shivered and clutched Orana tighter.

She had been silent since they left Malcolm and Leandra during the night. Fenris had grown used to her chatter over their time with the Hawkes, and he missed it now. He wanted to coax a question from her, tease a smile to her lips. But he had little strength left in his body, none that he could spare to speak.

He had no idea where they were anymore. The forest was too thick, blocking the sunlight from view. Fenris had no choice but to stumble blindly, hoping that by some miracle, they would survive.

He should know better.

The lyrium began to buzz in his veins, swirling wildly. Fenris froze, terror pouring through him before his mind could catch up, before he could process and understand what was happening. His head turned of its own volition, eyes whipping towards the shadows between the trees; shadows that were taking shape, solidifying and stepping forwards.

"Hello, Fenris."

Dark grey hair, pale eyes. Firm, unforgiving brows. Lips twisted into an arrogant smirk. Body tall and confident with every step. Victory written in every line, already claimed.

Fenris' knees trembled and he struggled to keep from falling.

"Danarius …"

No, it couldn't be him. This had to be a dream! But as the dread coiled through him and the magister stepped closer, Fenris knew this had been his fate, from the day he fled. Danarius would always find him, no matter how far he ran or how he tried to hide.

"Ah, my little wolf. Still so defiant! I love that about you, you know. Your spirit. So wild, so chaotic. But as we all know, chaos left unchecked is destruction. And you have left quite the trail of destruction in your wake, Fenris. Never fear. I am here now. It is time to come home."

He was so exhausted. And Danarius' words made so much sense. How many people had Fenris killed in his desperate bid for freedom? He had murdered and pillaged, lied and cheated, all for what? All for the right to call himself a free man right before he died from exposure, lost in a Ferelden forest?

What was the point?

Orana shuddered in his arms, a tiny whimper escaping her lips. Suddenly it all came crashing back to Fenris – the pain and terror, the torment and abuse. The honeyed words that dripped with lies, the soft hands that struck harshly. Taking a deep breath, Fenris drew himself up and set his jaw. He may have started this mad scramble for freedom for his own sake, but it was Orana that drove him now. She did not deserve to suffer at the hands of this monster.

"I am not your slave anymore, Danarius."

His voice was rough and brittle, his breaths wheezy. Yet the words landed and Fenris watched in satisfaction as Danarius scowled, teeth grinding together.

"Your punishment when we return shall already be severe enough. Do not make it any worse," Danarius warned as he slowly lifted the staff from his back. The slave hunters that had accompanied him began to fan out, trying to encircle their prey.

This was madness. Fenris was clinging to life by a thread. His hands cradled a three year old girl instead of the hilt of a sword. His only weapon was a small knife, barely large enough to skin rabbits.

Fenris could not win this fight. So why was he not running?

Sneering, Danarius tilted his staff towards them. Fenris felt the lyrium surge through his skin, so attuned to the casting for his master. Different spells tugged on him in different ways and he knew the shape of this one as it charged. Fenris cringed and curled around Orana. There was nowhere else to run but he refused to submit. If that meant they both had to die in order to be free, then so be it.

The crystal on Danarius' staff glowed deep red–

Fire exploded on the ground at Danarius' feet, almost knocking the staff from his grasp and sending him staggering. Fenris' eyes widened in shock and he felt his lyrium change direction, pulling gently but steadily.

"Fenris is a free elf!" Marian snapped as she threw herself before him. The staff in her hand was simple, like that of a novice mage. But her back was straight in defiance and her hands thrummed with raw Fade energy.

Fenris felt his heart lurch in his chest.

"If you want to get to him, you'll have to go through us," said Bethany, striding forward to flank Fenris' left side with another simple staff in her grasp. His mind was blank, too shocked to muster any thoughts.

"Just take care of the girl and we'll do the rest. Got that, elf?" Carver spoke gruffly, a plain sword twirling confidently through the air before him. Fenris' tongue was thick in his mouth, leaving him mute.

"Well, well, my little wolf. Sought a new master for yourself, hmm? How unsurprising. You were always too desperate to be dominated, no matter how you fought and protested. I'm sure your new master has discovered your  _ talents _ by now, hmm?"

Black horror and shame bubbled in Fenris' gut, leaving him trembling in fear. Bethany swore and Carver growled – but Fenris could not look away from Marian, as she went deathly still before him.

"Mutt.  _ Kill _ ."

A vicious snarl tore from the dog that Fenris had not noticed as Marian whipped her staff above her head in a twirl. She slammed it down, sending a wave of fire out from it. Danarius flicked up a shield with a casual sigh – but Marian's fire tore it to shreds.

Surprise flickered across Danarius' face but the cries of battle tore Fenris' focus away from the magister. He watched the mabari rip out a slaver's throat before lunging at the next, watched Carver cleave through a slaver's guard and stomach in the same blow, watched Bethany crush the life from another with the simple closing of her fist.

They were here. They had come for him, to help him.

Why? Fenris was nothing, he was no one. Why would they go to all this trouble, just for his sake?

The lyrium brands pulled on him as another spell discharged and a bitter taste filled his mouth. Of course. They were mages. And he was a walking fount of lyrium. Of course they wanted him.

"How dare you seek to challenge me!"

Marian yelped as a sudden blast from Danarius almost singed her. The magister stepped back and Fenris flinched.

"Stop him, he's going to–"

Too late.

Danarius flicked his palm open with a tiny blade. Chanting the words under his breath, he lifted the blood from the wound and wove the spell.

Screeches filled the air as the demons responded. They clawed from the ground and materialised in the air, obedient to the summoning.

"Blah blah, blood magic, aren't my demons great. Sodding bastard!" Carver growled with a roll of his eyes before lunging at the closest demon. His sword carved through the creature and spun towards the next in a single, sweeping movement.

"Honestly, it's disappointing!" Bethany declared as she blasted three demons back with a casual thrust of her hand. "You're a Tevinter magister, I'd expect you to have more  _ decorum _ than this!"

"No better than a back alley hedge mage in Kirkwall." Marian tutted and shook her head. "Still, I suppose, such are the low standards of a slaver."

"You dare think your magic can challenge mine? Foolish dog lord mongrel! You have no idea of the power at my command!"

With the blast of an ice spell and a harsh chant of words, Danarius killed one of his own slave hunters. He ripped the blood from the slaver's limp body, weaving a far more complicated summoning spell than before. Fenris' knees buckled and he curled over Orana, terrified of what he knew was to come.

The earth shook as a roar split the air. The pride demon slammed into the ground, throwing its head back and roaring again. Bethany gasped and Carver cursed violently.

Marian stood calm and still, watching as the pride demon set its gaze on her and began to charge. She lifted her palm casually and Fenris trembled. What could she hope to do against such a monster? Why was she not running? It would crush her!

Her palm closed into a fist and yanked down. To Fenris' utter disbelief, the pride demon crashed into the dirt, prone.

The very air seemed to crackle with the raw physicality of Marian's power. Taking a single step forward, she wove a new spell and unleashed it. The pride demon bellowed and snarled as energy swirled around it, constricting it, crushing it. Cracks split across its heavily armoured skin, exposing thick black ichor.

The demon fought against the magical prison, straining to break free. Bethany moved fast, casting the same spell as her sister and crushing the demon further into the ground. A clash of steel drew Fenris' eye to Carver, who was cutting through the last remaining slave hunters that sought to take advantage of the distraction.

It did not make sense. It should be impossible. How could these simple Fereldan apostates and their brother triumph over the great Magister Danarius?

"It is over," Marian declared, her eyes on Danarius instead of the demon. "Your blood magic cannot defeat us. You are not in Tevinter anymore!"

Marian's staff crackled with energy before a blast of lightning shot out to strike the pride demon. The bolt split through the demon's skull, scattering ichor everywhere. Fenris' jaw dropped as the demon slowly dissipated back to the Fade, leaving only bare essence behind.

Danarius stumbled.

"This is impossible! You are an apostate!"

Marian swirled her staff and thick vines erupted from the ground to wrap around Danarius, trapping him in place.

"You are from Tevinter. What do you know of apostates?"

"How dare you!" Danarius cursed. "You shall pay for this! I am a venerable magister, advisor to the Archon himself! If you kill me you shall bring the wrath of the Imperium upon yourself!"

"Me?" Marian laughed. "I am not doing anything. It is not my right."

She turned to look at Fenris and his heart stuttered in his chest. No. She couldn't …

"Fenris?" Marian beckoned him forwards, her bright blue eyes sparking with righteous fury.

"Here. Let me take her," Bethany spoke softly, hands outstretched towards Orana. Fenris stared blankly for a moment. He felt numb as he finally passed the tiny girl over to Bethany, who cradled her and rocked her gently.

Looking back to Marian, Fenris found his feet guiding him forwards. He paused when he reached her side, tremors stealing through his body as he stared at Danarius.

"You're already free, Fenris," Marian said softly even as her hands stayed vice-like, maintaining her spells upon the magister. "But now it's time for you to claim that freedom."

Fenris stared at his old master, and allowed the memories to wash through him. Pain, torment, agony. Soft words and kind gestures, chased by harsh blows and sharp lashes for minor failings. Mockery. Belittling. Parading him in front of other magisters. A successful experiment. Culmination of a lifetime's work.  _ Such a good little wolf. _

The lyrium brands on his body burned brighter and brighter with every step. Fenris was an incandescent ghost by the time he stopped before Danarius, molten fury pouring from his eyes.

"Fenris … my little wolf, please–"

A snarl and a thrust. His hand sank into the chest of his old master, fingers coiling around his panicked heart.

" _ I am not yours! _ "

He clenched his fist and ripped it free. Danarius gasped and convulsed, his face ashen grey. Blood trailed from the corner of his mouth and his wide-blown eyes clung to Fenris – until his body realised there was no life left in it and crumpled to the ground.

Chest heaving and gore dripping from his fist, Fenris slowly lifted his eyes to the Hawkes. Their gazes were full of pride and justice, but it was Marian who drew his attention above the others. Fade energy still thrummed across her skin and her blue eyes were fierce and bright.

Fenris could not look away.

"It's over, Fenris. You're free. You're  _ free! _ " Marian laughed, her face glowing with the joy of victory. He could feel the answering smile tugging at his lips. Hope began to spread through him, until his chest ached with the possibilities.

Marian slung her staff on her back and his thoughts came crashing to a halt.

Mage. She was a mage! No matter how often she declared he was free, he would not be safe with her!

The smile dimmed on her face and Fenris knew she had seen the wariness in his expression. He took a step back, letting the mangled heart fall from his fingers as he tensed for another battle. He could not win, he knew that. But he would never go willingly back to slavery.

Sadness filled Marian's eyes and she looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry that we didn't tell you we were mages. We don't tell anyone, for obvious reasons. But when I learnt you'd been enslaved to a Tevinter magister … well. It was all the more reason not to say anything. I wanted you to feel safe. I still want that."

Her eyes flicked up briefly but it was enough for Fenris to see the attraction, the desire. She yanked her gaze away as though horrified to let him see such things. But it was too late. His heart ached, both in longing and resignation.

"I will not come back with you," he said. "I will never serve another mage."

"I know, Fenris. And we would not ask you to." Marian glanced at Carver, who stepped forwards and slung a pack off his back. "You are free. You have the right to choose your own life. So we packed this for you. Clothes, blankets, food, some money. It's not much but it should help you find your own place."

Taking it from her brother, she offered it to him. Fenris stood frozen in shock and confusion.

"You … why are you doing this? Are you not trying to take me back with you?"

"Of course not, Fenris. Why would we ever try to steal your freedom?"

"Because of the lyrium!" he snapped and gestured to his body. "Why do you think Danarius hunted me so fiercely? You are mages! Surely you understand!"

Horror swept over Marian's face. She understood; he could see the implications of his statement swirling through her eyes. Grief filled her and she closed her eyes as she fought to compose herself.

"All the more reason for you to accept this." She extended the pack again. "We do not want to enslave you or force you to serve us, Fenris. We only want to help. If the only way for you to accept our help is to take this and leave … so be it. But … if you wanted to stay … you would be welcome."

His heart thundered in his chest as emotions too tangled and unfamiliar to name created a maelstrom inside him. Fenris stared at each of them, even the dog that wagged its tail and whined hopefully.

He should be running. All of his experiences told him to flee, to protect himself.

So why did he want to stay?

"Pwease, Fenwis?" His heart lurched as he spun to Orana, cuddled snugly against Bethany's side. One of her tiny hands played with some curls that had slipped free of Bethany's hair tie. The other was half outstretched towards him, clenched in a nervous fist. "Pwease? We stay?"

He owed that little girl a debt far larger than his fear. His throat swelled shut under the force of his emotions, so Fenris simply let his shoulders slump and gave a nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian stood beside him, mere inches away but not touching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hey guys. Remember back in chapter 1 when I said this fic would only be a couple chapters long and would most likely be completed in a couple of days? Ha. Aha. Ahahahaha.
> 
> Yep.
> 
> ANYWHO!  
> This is now the second-last chapter, not the last. But the next one will be the last, I promise! It's actually already written! I tried to keep it all in this chapter but then this chapter would have been over 7k words, so I decided to split them. Sigh. Short stories are not really my forte but I try.

The sight of the farmhouse stirred strange feelings inside Fenris. They were foreign but they almost felt like … belonging. The walk back had been arduous but less exhausting than he had expected. Somehow, the company of the Hawke siblings and their dog made his steps lighter.

Marian had approached him that first night camping around a small fire, caution on her face and gentleness in her hands.

"Tell me if I'm overstepping my bounds here, but … would you allow me to use my magic to heal you?"

Fenris had blanched, instantly wanting to reject the offer.

"I am not injured."

"No, I know. But you are sick. We've all heard you coughing and … well, I can sense the illness inside you. No point in pretending I can't, anymore."

Perhaps he was too weak and exhausted for good sense to take the lead. Or perhaps he was simply curious. Either way, Fenris found himself relenting and holding still as Marian lifted her hands.

He could not help the flinch that jolted through him as her magic rose. Pain flashed over her expression but she stamped it out, instead letting the gentle waves of healing magic to flow into him.

It had been unlike any magic Fenris had ever felt before. Warm, soothing, like the pleasant ache of muscles after exercise. And when she withdrew her hands, his lungs were clearer than they had been in weeks.

She smiled at him now, as his steps slowed and his eyes simply drank in the sprawl of the farm. Orana was happily chatting away in Bethany's arms, her silence a thing of the past. She bounced in Bethany's grasp, pointing excitedly towards the house. The dog barked, dancing around Carver's feet and causing him to curse as he fought not to trip. It was all so simple. So … ordinary. Fenris felt his heart ache again and he wondered that he could long for something that involved mages.

Good mages, he corrected himself. Marian and Bethany used their magic to heal, to help. To aid others. They were nothing like the other mages he had known. Nothing like Danarius and Hadriana.

The door to the house flung open and a woman stormed out onto the verandah, hands on her hips. Fenris shrank back instantly, body tensing as he reached for the small knife he had stolen and glanced towards Orana.

"Where _have_ you all been? Your father and I have been worried sick! Coming home to an empty house, no dog, no note–"

The woman's voice cut off sharply as her eyes landed on Fenris. She sucked in a shocked breath, one hand flying up to rest on the base of her throat. Fenris' own eyes widened as he realised he recognised her.

The verandah creaked as a man came to join the woman. His gaze instantly fell on Fenris, and surprise shone through for only a moment before he smiled.

"Mother, Father, this is Fenris and his daughter, Orana. Fenris, these are our parents, Leandra and Malcolm."

Fenris forced himself to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"We've met."

"Oh, you poor things!" Leandra rushed down the steps, heedless of the snow as she hurried towards them. Fenris shrank back further and Leandra instantly redirected to Orana. "Half frozen and starving to death, I'll wager! Come on, then. Let's get you inside and warmed up!"

"Wait, what? You've met?" Marian spoke up and Fenris shot her a wry glance.

"Briefly."

"We can tell the story once you've all had something hot to eat," Malcolm said in a tone so warm and welcoming that Fenris almost felt sick. He did not deserve their hospitality.

But the Hawkes were a force of nature and there was no stopping them once they set their minds to something. In less than a quarter of an hour, Fenris found himself ushered inside, wrapped in a blanket before the fire, and cradling a bowl of soup in his hands. Orana was similarly situated on Bethany's lap, her eyelids growing heavier with each spoonful.

Malcolm recounted the tale of their encounter lightheartedly, drawing out smiles and laughter in spite of the seriousness of what he told. Fenris waited for the judgement, for the accusations that were sure to come. But Malcolm finished his tale without any of them, instead shooting Fenris a look of acceptance so firm that did not know how to react.

This was wrong. He should not feel safe here, surrounded by mages on all sides. He should not let down his guard. He should not trust them with Orana.

Yet perhaps it was time to admit to himself that it was too late to take it all back.

* * *

"Papa!"

"Shh, it's alright. I'm here."

"Papa! I want Papa!"

Fenris let the guilt wash through him as he held Orana close and rocked her. A lump rose in his throat and he did not have the strength to dislodge it, nor to reassure her with paltry words. What could he possibly say that would soothe her? Nothing could lessen the pain of her loss.

"Fenris? Can I help at all?"

He looked up to see Marian in the doorway, compassion on her face as she glanced at Orana. Fenris wanted to turn her away and assure her that he had everything under control. Yet he found himself shrugging, sorrow filling him as his heart twisted.

Marian slipped into the room, closing the door behind her quietly. She crouched before the bed and smoothed Orana's hair back from her face.

"Oh, you poor thing. You miss your Papa a lot, don't you?"

Orana nodded miserably, her face screwing up as fresh tears cascaded. Fresh guilt stabbed into Fenris and he could do nothing but stare. Marian moved, gathering Orana into her arms and speaking softly to her.

"It's okay to miss him, Orana. Of course you miss him. Because you loved him, right? And I bet he loved you, too. His special daughter. He would be so proud of you, I'm sure."

Fenris felt entirely useless as Marian continued to comfort Orana. He had fulfilled this role in the past and he had tried tonight but … sometimes he just couldn't.

Marian lay Orana down in the bed some time later, hushing her as she stroked her hair. Face still red from crying, Orana gradually relaxed and slipped into sleep. Fenris swallowed hard, finally dislodging the lump in his throat.

"Thank you," he said awkwardly.

"Was it a nightmare?" Marian asked.

"I assume so. That, or memories. She has them every now and then. They disturb her sleep and she wakes calling for her father …" Guilt, again. It was his fault Orana had to suffer through this.

"What happened to him?"

"I already told you, he died."

"But you didn't tell me how." Marian waited a moment before tilting her head. "So?"

Too sharp, too raw. Fenris did not want to speak, did not want to confess his crimes in this place of safety and warmth. It would sully the house, stain its purity. He shook his head, eyes dropping to the floorboards.

"Please, Fenris. I know you're under no obligation to tell me anything but … It's eating you up inside, anyone can see that. I only want to help."

"How will speaking about such things help?" he snarled, the words laden with more vitriol than he intended.

"Because then it's not a secret anymore. Secrets are heavy burdens and sometimes they can hurt people. Even if you _have_ to keep something a secret, being able to share it with someone makes that burden a little lighter. Well, at least, that's my experience."

Marian sighed and shifted on the edge of the bed. Fenris could not even remember her sitting beside him but he was intensely aware of her presence now; he could feel the warmth radiating from her. He wanted to lean into that warmth, to take her hand and tell her everything she wanted to know.

He stood up and paced the room, too confused to process those desires.

"I'm sorry," Marian said, her tone clearly repentant. "You don't have to say anything, especially if you knew him well, I can't imagine how difficult–"

"I didn't know her father." The words falling from his mouth surprised him just as much as they surprised Marian. Fenris folded his arms over his chest and stared blankly at the wall. "My master – Danarius – was travelling on business and left me in the care of his apprentice. Hadriana. She … she was vile. When I … She made me …"

He couldn't get the words out, his eyes suddenly burning as his teeth bit viciously at his lip.

"You don't have to say it," Marian whispered.

"I hated her," Fenris spat and despised how those words utterly failed to convey the depth of his contempt. "I had suffered under her hand for years. Danarius knew. And he allowed it." Fenris shook his head. "I could not tolerate it any longer. So when I brought her evening meal … I poisoned her. Magebane. She knew as soon as she drank the wine and she cursed me. But I had been Danarius' bodyguard, I still carried my sword. So … I attacked her."

Fenris could still see the luxurious robes and glittering jewels on Hadriana's body. He remember the twist of her face, confusion to horror to outrage – underlaid with fear. He had felt power, then. His first taste of true power that he could ever remember. The sword had felt light as a feather in his hands, veritably _singing_ for him as he swung at her throat– 

"She screamed and tried to run from me. One of the slaves came to investigate the screams. Hadriana used him as a shield. I … I tried to stop but …"

The shudder of steel embedding in bone. Blood erupting from the cleaved neck. A shocked face, eyes wide, expression seared into Fenris' mind forever before the elf crumpled.

"My sword struck him instead of Hadriana. Killed him. But no other slaves came to investigate and Hadriana had nothing to protect herself without her magic. I ripped her heart out but …" Fenris swallowed. "I couldn't save him. He was already dead. But he was holding a small toy in his hands. A child's toy. And then I heard Orana."

"Oh, Fenris." Marian's voice was heartbroken but she made no move towards him and Fenris was infinitely grateful for that.

"She had followed him. She was standing in the doorway, staring at me as I knelt by her dead father. And she cried, tried to run to him. I couldn't leave her there with no one. Not when I owed her such a great debt. So I took her with me. And I ran."

"I'm so sorry," Marian said and the compassion in her voice was genuine. "I can't imagine what it would have been like to go through that. I'm so sorry, Fenris. You didn't deserve any of that."

"Orana is the one who doesn't deserve any pain. She is a child. She didn't deserve to lose her father at my hand."

"You can't blame yourself for that."

" _What?_ " Fenris spun on her, eyes blazing in outrage. "I was the one who wielded the sword! I was the one who struck him down! _Of course_ it's my fault! Where else would you lay the blame?"

"On Hadriana," Marian said firmly, unwavering in the face of his pain and rage. "She was a monster, I've no doubt of that. You were right to kill her. But she was the one who grabbed an innocent bystander to try and protect herself. She killed Orana's father, not you."

"If I had not tried to kill Hadriana–"

"You would still be trapped in slavery! And what might have happened to Orana, hmm? Can you honestly tell me that her father would still be alive? That Orana would be?"

Fenris stared at her, unable to respond. Marian's face softened.

"You can't, can you? Oh, Fenris. I'm not saying it's a good thing that Orana's father died – far from it – but it gave you a chance to save someone else from slavery. Were you planning to take anyone else with you after you killed Hadriana?"

"I … No. I had formed no friendships with any of the other slaves. It was not permitted."

"Right. So if you'd killed Hadriana in a different way and Orana's father hadn't been caught up in the middle of it, Orana would still be a slave. She wouldn't be free. I'm not saying it was a good thing or that you should be okay with what happened. But sometimes good can come from terrible situations. And that's what I see here."

"I still have to live with it," Fenris said, his voice rough from the force of tangled emotions in his chest. "Every time she has a nightmare and I can't comfort her, or she learns something new and I know that I have no right to witness this, it should be her father, not me–"

He walked further away, hating the renewed sting in his eyes. There was movement behind him, light footsteps. Fenris tensed, bracing for the touch he had not asked for.

Marian stood beside him, mere inches away but not touching him.

"She has someone who loves her, Fenris. And that is far better than if her father had died and you had left her alone in that place. You love her, Fenris. And you brought her here. And now _we_ get to know her and love her, too. I know it doesn't make up for the loss of her own family. But it is so much better than being alone."

With that, Marian slipped out the door and left him in the quiet of night with his tangled thoughts.

* * *

"Are you sure about this? I mean, I was a soldier, you know. I served in Fereldan's army for two years. I wouldn't want to hurt you."

Growing tired of Carver's reluctant attitude, Fenris rolled his eyes and lazily spun the practice sword in his grip.

"What's the matter? Scared I'll beat you?" he taunted and watched in satisfaction as Carver drew himself up a little straighter.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you! And none of that lyrium business, either, y'hear?"

Fenris took his stance, arching on eyebrow in challenge. Carver mirrored his position, before stepping forward and delivering a rapid set of blows.

It was a warm, sunny day despite the snow that blanketed the world. Carver had been out here sparring with a practice dummy when Fenris ventured out and asked to join him. Carver had been reluctant but when Fenris said he had some sword fighting experience, Carver had relented and procured another practice sword.

Now, Fenris blocked Carver's blows with ease. The young man was built like a house and clearly knew how to channel his strength into his blows. But Fenris had trained for years with the most elite swordsmen of Tevinter. He dodged the brunt of Carver's blows, redirecting the swings and following up with his own.

Surprise leapt over Carver's face before a small grin touched his lips. He pulled back then launched in with new speed and new strength. The overhead blow came hurtling down and Fenris reacted on instinct, catching it on the crossguard.

His teeth rattled in his head as the force of that blow ricocheted through him. Being on the run for months had taken a toll on his strength and his skills. It took him a moment to shake off the blow and regroup, giving Carver plenty of time to do the same.

Fenris dodged the incoming jab and swept in his own sword towards Carver's unprotected side. But the large, lumbering young man was nimble on his feet, blocking the sweep and throwing a large grin at his opponent.

"Come on, elf. Is that the best you've got?"

_No lyrium_ , Fenris reminded himself – but oh, how he wanted to use it! That would show this young, arrogant upstart! But he had agreed to a clean fight. A spar. So he had to be smarter and faster.

He lunged forwards and let his sword dart in with alarming speed. Carver blocked his every blow but that was what Fenris wanted. He let Carver learn his pattern, predict it. Then he reversed his grip, swiped wide and collided with the crossguard, hard.

Carver's practice sword went flying out of his hands, thudding into the deep snow. Mouth hanging open in shock, Carver stared after his sword before back up to his opponent.

Fenris lowered his sword and nodded respectfully.

"How … how did you do that?" Carver gasped.

"Practice," Fenris said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Practice? Ha! What kind of practice do they teach in Tevinter?"

Fenris allowed himself a small smile now, walking over to Carver's lost sword and retrieving it.

"I was a private bodyguard for my master. Being a high ranking member of the magisterium, he had a great number of enemies and it was my duty to protect him from all forms of attack. And I was very good at my job."

"What? Why didn't you tell me? I thought you had basic troop training or something, not anything like this!"

"Well, it has been months since I wielded a sword. I had to sell mine to buy passage across the Waking Sea. So I was assuming I would be rusty. And I was."

Carver sputtered, muttering a disbelieving, "rusty, my arse," under his breath. But he took back his practice sword, wiped the surprise from his face and took up another stance.

"Alright then. No holding back this time!"

They sparred for another hour, finally letting the practice swords fall into the churned slurry underfoot as their chests heaved from exertion and sweat slicked their brows. Fenris turned his face up to the sky, languishing in the warmth.

How long had it been since he simply took a moment to enjoy himself?

"Oh, I could do with a drink after all that," Carver groaned and stretched his limbs. He was bruised and sore – Fenris had beaten him quite thoroughly – but he gave no complaint. Instead, he offered a crooked grin to Fenris and gestured towards the house. "You coming?"

"In a minute or two," Fenris replied, and began his own stretching routine. It had been so long – months – since he had completed this routine. Yet it was still familiar, comforting.

Carver slapped him on the shoulder and stumbled off to the house. Fenris let his mind blank as he settled deep into the stretching routine. The burn in his muscles was an old friend and he shook himself out at the end of the routine, breathing deeply.

Gathering up the practice swords, Fenris returned them to the storage room in the barn. He was about to exit when he heard footsteps on the snow outside and he fell into stealth on reflex.

"Now then, what is going on between you and Fenris?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come now, Marian. I may be well into my middle years but I am far from blind! A mysterious young elf with a tiny daughter in tow show up out of nowhere and you decide to risk your life for them? Please."

"Mother! It is nothing of the sort!"

Fenris was frozen, hardly daring to breathe. He let himself melt deeper into the shadows of the barn, hoping against hope that they would not come in here. Leandra snorted in clear disbelief and there a thudding sound as something was set against the side of the barn.

"You can deny it all you like but a mother knows what she sees."

"There is nothing to see!" Marian sputtered, embarrassment thick in her voice.

"Oh? Then what do you call all those midnight visits to his room?"

"Orana has nightmares–"

"Not to mention the way you flow around him, always keeping an eye on him or engaging him in the conversation. Standing close to him, _brushing up against him_."

"Mother!"

"Well, what do you expect? If you are truly oblivious about your feelings, then it is high time someone pointed them out to you!"

"I am not oblivious!"

"Aha! Then you do feel something for him?"

Marian fell silent and Fenris found himself leaning forward ever so slightly, breath held in his chest as he waited desperately for her answer. His heart thundered in his chest and his fists clenched tightly by his sides. A heavy knot tangled low in his gut and he had no idea what he wanted her answer to be.

"Of course I feel something for him," Marian finally replied, her voice low and gentle. "Fenris is … oh, mother, he's gorgeous. And sarcastic and funny and genuine. Of course I love spending time with him and want to … get to know him better. But it is not as simple as that."

"Why not?" Leandra asked, her own voice as gentle as her daughter's.

"Because of everything he's been through! He's been hurt so much, seen so many terrible things. I cannot even begin to imagine …" Marian sighed. "He is not ready for anything more than a friendship right now. He might not ever be. And I will not pressure him by saying anything to him."

"Is that not unfair? If you truly feel so strongly for him, then–"

"No," Marian said firmly. "This needs to be Fenris' choice. He has been controlled and ordered around his entire life. I won't add to his pain by doing the same to him now."

"I hardly think confessing your feelings amounts to the same as what was done to him during his slavery," Leandra argued, her voice a little softer as the footsteps resumed. Walking away.

"It doesn't matter. It's his choice. When he's ready – if he's ever ready – then I'll let him come to me."

Their voices were too distant to make out any more words but Fenris did not need to hear them. His heart was racing faster than ever and his stomach was so tangled that he felt he might lose its contents at any moment. He sank against the wall of the barn, unable to stop the conversation from looping in his head.

Marian was attracted to him. She had feelings for him.

Of course Fenris had felt attraction to her, too. She was beautiful and sharp, seeing straight through whatever defences he put up around himself. She always said the right thing at the right time, she let him take his time and feel comfortable in her presence without pressure –

_But she is a mage._

Rubbing a hand fiercely over his face, Fenris tried to push any further thoughts out of his mind. This was too much to contemplate right now. He needed to give it time, just as Marian had said.

Still, he could not put aside how good it had felt to hear her say _it's his choice_.

* * *

The days blurred into each other. The small farmhouse was crowded now, but Fenris found he did not mind the bustle as much as he thought he would. Leandra and Malcolm did not make him feel at all unwelcome, instead encouraging him and helping him to seamlessly fit into their lifestyles.

Malcolm never made any mention of the small knife that Fenris had stolen, but Fenris had not forgotten. Finally, he could stand it no longer, and he trudged out into the snow – wearing an old coat of Carver's that practically drowned him – to find Malcolm repairing the wooden fence behind the barn.

"I … This is yours," Fenris said awkwardly and held out the knife. Malcolm lay down his hammer and lifted the small knife, examining it. "I should not have taken it. I would like to apologise for my theft and my rude behaviour on that night."

Malcolm turned the knife slowly, letting the light reflect off the blade. Then he smiled softly and placed it back in Fenris' hand.

"Keep it. And there is no need for an apology. I understand."

Fenris stood there, mouth opening and closing dumbly. How was he meant to respond to this? Social interactions were not his area of expertise on a good day. But this generosity, this kindness …

"Have you got a minute?" Malcolm asked and Fenris nodded mutely, still holding the knife as though it might bite him. "Good. Come with me."

Malcolm turned and began to stride across the snow-covered ground, heading further away from the farmhouse. Mystified, Fenris tucked the knife back into his pants and nervously followed the older man.

They traversed the cold countryside, until Malcolm came to a halt on a gentle rise. Fenris tugged Carver's coat tighter around himself, taking in the view. It was a wide, open expanse of land that led to a thick forest not far behind.

"What do you think?" Malcolm asked, gesturing to the land before them. Fenris blinked and shot a sideways glance at him, once again wondering what the expected response was right now.

"It … It is beautiful," he said slowly.

"Not too far from the farmhouse, either. But far enough to offer a bit of privacy."

The hairs on the back of Fenris' neck prickled in alarm at that simple phrase. He stepped away from Malcolm, heart racing as he silently pulled the knife from his pants, terrified but ready to defend himself.

"It's yours if you want it."

_What?_

Malcolm turned to him then, freezing at the sight of the knife and Fenris' panicked expression. But Fenris' arm was lowering, that simple phrase reverberating in his head.

"Whoa, Fenris–"

"What? What did you say?" His arm hung limply by his side now and Malcolm stared at him warily for a long moment.

"I said it's yours if you want. You and Orana are welcome to stay in the farmhouse for as long as you like, but if you ever want some privacy of your own, you could build a cottage here. What … what did you think we were doing out here?"

"I didn't … I mean, I …" Fenris was at a loss. "You mean you didn't bring me out here to … kill me?"

Malcolm's mouth fell open and deep empathy swept over his expression.

"No, Fenris. Never. I brought you out here to show you the future. Your future, if you want it."

He did not know what to do or say. His eyes turned back onto the open land and just like that, Fenris could see it. He could see a simple but sturdy cottage, smoke curling from the chimney. He could see Orana playing in the snow, and Marian standing by his side as they watched from the porch.

His heart lurched. Where had _that_ come from?

"Forgive me," Malcolm said, drawing Fenris out of his thoughts. "I did not mean to startle you or overwhelm you. And if this offer offends you in any way, then you do not have to accept. Only, Marian told me that you wanted to stay. And I thought you might want a place to call your own. Something to put your own mark on."

"I cannot accept this," Fenris said, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Why not?" Malcolm asked and Fenris stared at him. Was it not obvious?

"I am a slave! I do not have the right to a place of my own!"

"No. You are free, Fenris. Free! That means you can own land, build a house. You forge your own path now. You answer to no one!"

The expression in Malcolm's eyes was too similar to the one he often saw in Marian's gaze. Fenris looked away, breaths heaving. His chest felt tight and his gut was churning but … this was different to fear or anxiety or anything else he had felt before. This was different. Hopeful.

He had forgotten what hope felt like.

"I do not know how to build a cottage."

An amused huff escaped Malcolm and the older man clapped a hand on Fenris' shoulder, startling him once more.

"Lucky for you, I do. And I'll help you. Now, we can't start building yet – the ground is frozen solid, we'll have to wait for spring. But that just means we have time to plan out exactly what you want."

And just like that, Fenris found himself deep in conversation about construction, architectural layouts and aesthetic designs. He had never even considered anything like this before. Yet with each step, his heart grew lighter and a smile threatened to tug at his face.

He had a future here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your patience during this sucky covid time. Please let me know what you think, I really value your comments! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was one thing to have hope, to see the possibility of a new future far in the distance. It was another thing entirely to watch it bloom in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, actually sticking to my word and updating on time for once.
> 
> Here it is, the long-awaited finale! Hopefully it meets expectations after such a long time coming. Tbh it's been quite a difficult chapter to sit down and write, but hey, I made it!
> 
> Recommended listening for this chapter: [Home by Gabrielle Aplin.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPNgq4ZRxKg)

The melting snow came before Fenris knew it, bringing with it something that he found a distinct lack of fondness for.

Mud.

Thick and claggy, it clung to everything and was impossible to get off. His desire to kick off shoes and once again go barefoot was trumped by the practical uses that sturdy boots offered.

Malcolm set to work with the first snow melt. Felling trees, stripping branches and laying out plots, he instructed Fenris every step of the way and it was not long before the bare bones of Fenris' cottage were beginning to take shape.

The rest of the farm was booming with activity, keeping all of them occupied from dawn till dusk. Carver and Marian tended the druffalo herd, and Leandra and Bethany ploughed fields for planting. More often than not, Orana played in the sawdust as Malcolm and Fenris worked. Sometimes Fenris worried that she was not being shown the attention she needed, but the young girl seemed quite content to entertain herself, so he tried to push such concerns aside.

Every evening, Fenris was stagger inside the house and kick off his boots beside the other pairs in the mudroom. He would carry Orana in his arms or let her drag him by the hand into the warmth of the house. And after cleaning up, he would help whoever was in the kitchen with preparing dinner if it was not yet ready.

Something was changing inside Fenris with every bright spring day that dawned. It was one thing to have hope, to see the possibility of a new future far in the distance. It was another thing entirely to watch it bloom in his hands.

Marian was radiant.

Spring meant clear skies, warm days and cool nights. Heavy cloaks were shed in favour of light tunics and trousers. Fenris often caught himself staring as Marian bent to tug her boots on in the morning, only to flush in embarrassment when she looked over her shoulder and grinned at him.

Her words weighed heavily on his mind, those snatches of conversation he had overheard in the barn. She was attracted to him. She had _feelings_ for him. But she was leaving the choice up to him.

No, he should not pursue anything with her. It was too dangerous – she was a mage! Even putting that aside, Fenris had no idea how long he would stay here. Building a cottage was all well and good, but what if another magister came looking for him? What if someone found out he had murdered Danarius and came for revenge?

 _Weak excuses_ , some foreign voice whispered in his mind. Fenris had never heard it before but it plagued him now, loudest whenever he tried to convince himself to keep his distance from Marian. _You are not afraid of Tevinter or her, you are afraid of being loved._

He distracted himself from these confusing and conflicting thoughts by working on the cottage. Fenris was a fast learner and Malcolm a skilled teacher. It wasn't long before Malcolm was stepping back more and simply watching as Fenris accomplished the construction stages himself.

Fenris found himself labouring under the hot sun one afternoon. The external frame had been completed a day ago, leaving the internal finishings and a few roof patches. Malcolm had left several hours ago, claiming it was too hot to continue work now and urging Fenris to rest.

But Fenris was used to the heat. Seheron had been searing in comparison, and for the first time since he set foot in Ferelden, he felt comfortable in the hot climate. So he declined Malcolm's offer of rest and let the older man return to the farmhouse with Orana trotting along beside him.

He needed the time to himself, time to think. Fenris' dreams had been troubling the night before. Suffocating. He had woken in a cold sweat and been unable to fall back asleep. So he vented his frustrations now, sawing at pieces of timber as his mind wandered.

Cold water crashed over him and he slipped, almost cutting himself with the saw. Shocked, he swiped sodden hair back off his face and whipped his eyes around wildly – until he saw the culprit standing only a few feet away.

"Marian," he growled. She grinned impishly, the empty bucket still dangling from her fingertips.

"Come on, Fenris. It's too hot to work anymore!"

"Leave me alone," he snarled, suddenly furious at her impulsive actions. The water would make the timber swell and warp; he would have to start all over again with this piece!

"No way, you shouldn't be working when it's this hot. And besides, I have something to show you."

"I don't care, I–"

"Oh, come _on!_ "

She darted forwards, grabbing his hand and tugging. Just like that, Fenris found himself following. How could he resist her when she insisted so? He grumbled and dragged on her grip to show his displeasure, not wanting her to get away with this too easily.

Yet Marian's laughter was infectious, as were the carefree smiles she threw over her shoulder. She urged him faster and faster, until they were running across the fields with long grass whipping at their legs.

Her fingers stayed twined through his and Fenris had no desire to let go.

Marian slowed at the bottom of a hill. Chest heaving and blood racing through his veins, Fenris stared out at the small lake before them. Insects buzzed and trees swayed their branches in a light breeze.

"What do you think?" Marian asked, a shy smile on her face.

"I had no idea this was out here," Fenris replied and she laughed again.

"Of course you didn't. Why would you? And that's why I wanted to show you. Everyone else is back at the house. We're completely alone!"

She slipped out of his grasp then, running once more, kicking off her boots and – _venhedis_ – tugging off her tunic as she went. Heat burnt through Fenris and his mouth hung open as Marian ran along a fallen tree that protruded over the water, only to jump and catapult into the lake. She surfaced and the look she gave him made his knees tremble in desire.

"What are you waiting for? Come on!" she called and just like that, his feet began to move. Boots fell away and his fingers hesitated over the edge of his shirt – but she was right there in the water, swimming lazily with the most content expression on her face. He had to be closer to her, he _had_ to.

Fenris let his shirt fall to the ground and walked into the lake rather than jumping in. He hissed as the water swirled around his skin.

"The water is not warm enough for this," he remarked and Marian laughed, swimming to him and tugging him further out. Fenris grimaced at the cold but was mesmerised by her blue eyes, unable to say no.

"What are you talking about, this is wonderful!" She floated on her back, hands lazily tracing through the water. Another burst of heat shot through him and Fenris swam after her, no longer minding the cold so much.

"I love it out here," Marian said after a long moment. "It's so peaceful, so removed from everything else back home. Out here I can let go and just … exist in the moment." She turned towards him then. "Have you ever had anything like this before?"

"Yes."

Surprise lit on her face, coupled with something Fenris struggled to read.

"What was it?" she asked and he could not have looked away if he tried.

"Meeting you. I have never felt as free and peaceful since …" He trailed off, words stolen by the overwhelming emotions that rose in Marian's eyes. His heart raced nervously and he wanted to reach out to her, wanted to draw her close and feel her skin against his own.

Thunder rumbled overhead and Marian flinched before tilting her head up. Dark clouds swarmed across the sky and with a curse, she swam for the shore. Fenris followed her, trying not to stare as she wrung water out of her trousers and tugged her tunic back over her underclothes.

A bolt of light momentarily blinded them, chased by another crash of thunder. The clouds were closer, angry and fast.

"Hurry!" Marian cried and took off running again. Stumbling into his boots and barely remembering to snag his shirt in time, Fenris followed her.

The downpour caught them before they could make it back to the farmhouse. It crashed upon them in great sheets, slicking the ground and encouraging the mud to trip them. Marian kept struggling towards the farmhouse but Fenris caught her wrist and tugged in a different direction. They were closer to his cottage.

Although by no means finished, the external shell of the cottage was complete. They scrambled up the steps and fell in through the open door, Fenris hurriedly pushing it shut behind them. They panted in the dry cottage that smelled of sawdust and fresh timber.

"Wow," Marian said, pushing her sodden hair out of her face. "I was not expecting that."

"Is Ferelden weather always this unpredictable?" Fenris asked and grimaced at the puddles they were leaving behind.

"We get thunderstorms in summer but they're not as common in spring. Though, with how hot it's been, I suppose it makes sense."

Silence fell between them, as they both squeezed water out of their clothes and stole glances at each other. Giving up for now, Fenris sat on a stack of planks and looked at Marian. Her eyes darted away when his landed on her face but they snuck back quickly enough. Fenris patted the plank beside him and everything froze for an infinite moment as she didn't move.

But then she stepped forwards and Fenris could breathe again. Marian sat next to him, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. He wanted her closer, wanted to hold her in his arms, tip her head back with his fingers, taste her lips with his …

_You were always too desperate to be dominated, no matter how you fought and protested. My little wolf._

The memory burned through his mind, eliciting sharper pain than he had felt in months. Fenris jerked away, whole body stiffening as he shoved up to his feet and strode quickly to the other side of the room. _Why?_ Why did he have to remember _that_ when he was here, with her? Why did he have to ruin this for himself?

"Fenris? Are you alright?" Marian asked in that gentle voice. He shook his head, rubbing fiercely at his eyes.

"I don't … I am sorry, I …"

"What? What have you got to be sorry about?"

He bit back a curse and shuddered. He wanted to be free of this! But he could still feel the phantom hands sliding along his skin, the poisonous whispers dripping into his ears.

He didn't deserve this, any of it.

"What … what Danarius said that day …" He swallowed hard, working to keep his emotions in check. "What if he was right?"

"I don't understand," Marian said and her voice was barely audible. Fenris wanted to look at her but refused to turn. What would he see other than pity?

"He said … I had found a new master. That I was … I was desperate … for … for domi–"

"No." Marian's voice was hard now, shocking him into silence. "Stop it, Fenris. Don't make yourself relive that!"

"But what if he's right?" He drove trembling hands into his hair, still too distressed to turn to her. "You are a mage. You saved my life, twice. I am indebted to you. What if that is why I am still here? What if I am simply replacing one master for another?"

"You are free to leave whenever you wish, Fenris. You know that. You stayed because you _wanted_ to, not because you had to."

"Exactly. I stayed. With mages. Why? Am I completely incapable of choosing a life away from magic, even when the option is thrust into my hands? What kind of fool am I?" Marian said nothing this time and Fenris nodded to himself. That had to be it.

"Fenris, can you look at me? Please?"

He did not want to turn around. He did not want to see the pity in those blue eyes; he wouldn't be able to stand it. But neither did he want to deny her. So he turned, hands clenched into fists as though they were the only things holding him together.

Marian sat on the planks where he had invited her. She was soaked and shivering but her blue eyes were bright and full of certainty – no trace of pity.

"Do you remember what you said to me at the lake just now? Hmm? You said that you have never felt as free and peaceful as you have since you met _me_. Since living _here_. Was that a lie?"

"I … No." He stared at her, heart tight in his chest.

"Alright. Now I want you to think back to your life in Tevinter. With Danarius. With … Hadriana. Did you ever feel some measure of peace or freedom with them?"

"Never," he spat, trembling from the force of emotions her words elicited. Marian nodded and slowly stood.

"Then that is your answer. How could you look at your life here and think that it is anything like your enslavement?"

"It … it's not."

"I know it's not, Fenris. Even though I never saw you in Tevinter, I know it's not. Because when I look at you I see a free elf, strong and proud. I see all the choices you have made since you came into my life. I have seen you state your boundaries and enforce them. I have seen you say no and yes, I've seen you consider your options and choose the one you thought best for yourself. And that in no way reflects the image of a slave. That is the image of a free man! Danarius was _wrong_ , Fenris. He never knew the real you, for if he did, he never could have made such claims. And I am _convinced_ of that fact!"

Fenris could not look away. She stood firm and confident, blue eyes veritably blazing with conviction and …

_Love._

He was moving before he knew it. Closing the distance with long strides, one hand lifting to slide behind her head, the other seizing the collar of her tunic and pulling her in close. Part of him waited for the rebellion, for the anger and the dominance to rear up against him.

Marian melted under his touch. Just like that, she tilted her head back and submitted to _him_.

Fenris kissed her like he was drowning. Lips forceful and desperate, drinking her in as though he had never shared such intimacy before. And he hadn't. Not willingly. But this was his choice, his decision. And it was _wonderful_.

Sparks jolted through him as Marian's hands clung to his waist. She tilted her head when he demanded, parted her lips with a gasp at the touch of his tongue. A groan ripped from his throat and he cradled her against him. The tangled, wet strands of her hair beneath his fingers. The racing pulse of her heartbeat against his chest. The taste of her, filling his senses until he was blinded with delirium and delight.

He was shaking when they slowly broke away. Marian was just as breathless as he was, eyes wide and lips still parted and swollen. He could not help but trail fingers across her face, overwhelmed by the depth of emotions he felt for her. Emotions that he had never thought he could feel for another person.

"Fenris," she whispered, hands clinging to his shirt.

"Marian," he whispered back, struggling to form words around the rising lump in his throat. "I … I cannot promise you … That is, after everything … Danarius, he … He made me …"

"Hush. It's alright."

"But, but I cannot … I might not be able to …"

"I don't care. Whatever you are comfortable with, at whatever pace, is fine with me. As long as it is your choice."

He arched an eyebrow then, tilting her chin back to bestow a slow, gentle kiss upon her parted lips.

"My choice? This is my choice." He looked her in the eye, heart aching and skin burning where she pressed against him. "You."

And then she was smiling, that expression so brilliant that his body went weak all over again. Marian laughed, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. As Fenris returned the embrace, filling his nostrils with her scent, he could not help but dare to believe that here, in this place with this beautiful woman, he had found the one thing he had thought he would never have.

Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for joining me on this journey! I've loved writing this fic and I've loved sharing it with you all!
> 
> Please drop your feedback in a comment below, and if you enjoy fenhawke as much as I do, feel free to check out my werewolf AU fic, Ghost Wolf. Stay safe, lovelies! <3


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